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A Wolf Among Sheep, Part V
'Southwest Span - ' ----- :The township of Lightholder is perhaps one of the most prominent locations in Fastheld. A well-maintained town with clean streets and a high standard of living, it is situated around the base of Caryas Hill upon the Imperial Isle, beneath the watch of the Royal Palace, it is surrounded on all four sides by the Lightholder River, though has flourished by virtue of being at the heart of all the trade routes and political developments in the Empire. :The buildings are usually timber-framed with wattle walls the color of clay, though a few stone buildings are also dotted around the place. The southwest span of the township - known as the Coach District - is especially robust due to the number of traveling Nobles and Merchants as they wait to visit the Palace or rest before heading on to other locations. :Of substantial note is the Lightholder Tavern, a large and sturdy no-nonsense stone structure with timber supports that has been rebuilt as many times as it has had owners. Having recently undergone renovation, it has since stuck a fine line between indulgence and pragmatic necessity, accommodating anyone that has coin to spare. :One might note that a exceptionally regal road of white cobbles ascends from this district to begin a clockwise-spiral around the edges of Caryas Hill itself. Known as the Palace Road, this wide route leads uphill to the gates of the Imperial Palace. :The Guild District of Lightholder rests on the southeastern span of the Imperial Isle towards the east, while the Merchant District can be found on the northwestern span in the north. The Lightholder River flows to the south and west, while Caryas Hill looms overhead in the northeast. :It is the Eighth hour by the Shadow on Shadowwatch. The slightest breeze stirs over the land infrequently. A few wispy cirrus clouds streak the otherwise clear sky. ----- In the dim, orange wash of torch and lamp light, Ashlynn's hair gleams bright as she adjusts her horse's back; Conceit grunting as the courier expertly forces out a stored breath from the mare so that she may tighten the saddle's girth snugly. With a huff of resignation, the mare shifts its weight from one hip to the other, ears laid back. As the good people of the well-to-do township begin closing up their shops and heading home for the evening, a hunter has returned from the wild. Black-clad and bandaged, she is the very picture of pride overcoming pain, hauling herself along with an awkward limp that carries her toward the docks. Skidding along behind her is a homemade wooden sledge, upon which the day's kill is carefully bundled and secured. Having finally bullied the recalcitrant Conceit into saddle and bridle, Ashlynn is gathering up the reins in preparation to pulling herself onto the mare's back when the dull scrape of wood over some thinly-covered shale has her wincing and glancing warily toward its source. Brow furrowing, she finally does swing into the saddle, directing the mare toward the informal path that leads near the strange proceedings for a better look; all the while, the reins shortened in her hand in case instant action is needed. It's into this that a striking woman moves, she steps out of the tavern with a brush of velvet and leather and the softest of sounds. Laurehya pauses as she notices the horse flesh that passes by and it's to this that her knowing eye moves, taking in the runt as it were before they finally notice the woman on top. She's given a violet-blue look over and a half smile before her eyes are then drawn to the sound as well, and flicker over Caprice is a curious manner. Step, drag. Step, drag. Step, drag. A herculean effort for the ranger, it would seem. Reese pays no notice to the courier, nor the Baroness, loping along with labored movements and head held high. Pausing at an intersection, she swings her head this way and that, silver-blonde locks swaying in the evening breeze as she sorts out the easiest route to the waterfront. The glint of tavern light off fine velvet and burnished gold catches hold of Ashlynn's attention for a moment, as a noblewoman steps out into the street. A quick glance as she passes, but that is all she spares however, as she finally makes out the familiar platinum mane in the colder light of the moons. "Firelight," she hisses, half in surprise and the rest in alarm as she quickly knees the mare into a trot, approaching the woman from her left and giving the barge a wide, cautious berth. A flicker of an arched eyebrow is given as Laurehya moves from the tavern and makes her way towards the nearby stables, this of course brings the noblewoman up closer to the ranger and now the moving courier. She pauses to glance into said stables, but holds a curious ear to the whole thing happening not to far away. At the sound of her name, Caprice Firelight lifts her head, regarding Ashlynn with what is -- at first -- a suspicious gaze. While she comes to a halt, plainly allowing the woman to approach, no greeting is given save for the faintest nod of her head. Ashlynn pulls to a halt alongside the other woman, taking in her bedraggled appearance before her gaze flicks back toward the dark bundle upon the barge with a reflexive grimace. "Is that..." she begins to ask before halting herself with a wince, deciding better than to blurt out a question question which she may not wish to have answered. "What are you doing?" she revises, slipping off the mare's back. "You should be resting, in your shape..." "I did," Reese informs her simply, patently ignoring the unfinished question. Turning, she resumes her step, drag, step, drag, returning her eyes to the road ahead. "Ri' 'head an' teel th' Dooke whit I foun' success, aye." It takes a moment for Ashlynn to puzzle out what the ranger says, but once she does, she looks no happier for the knowledge. "Granted, if you run into trouble, you are still most likely of more use than I am, but I still do not think that is the best scheme to be had. Half a candlemark's worth of warning is hardly going to be of much use to anyone. How about I pace you alongside?" she asks, even as she swings back into the saddle. "In fact, if it would help ease your work, we can even lash a stay-line to Conceit's saddle." Chilling eyes narrow to slits as Reese considers the courier, the mare, and the towed parcel. Seconds tick by. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots its haunting cry. "Verra weel," the Pathfinder relents, bobbing her head once in affirmative. The courier nods with a brief grin at the acceptance and wasts no time in taking the line from Caprice, tying it off to the saddle and using the mare's strength to drag the raft the rest of the way into the water. Once Caprice is comfortably situated, she immediately knees her mount toward the southern end of the river. 'Courtyard - ' ----- :One of the newer buildings here in Jade Gardens, Bloodwood Manor is nevertheless a somewhat impressive structure. It sits to the south of these gardens, with its east and west wings wrapping north around the garden in a semi-circle, like a pair of enveloping arms. In the top center of the manor, a rotunda sits, like the crown of the giant and jutting forward. Though constructed primarily of oak, several red marble pillars sit out in the front of the manor, for support and for show. :The garden itself is an elegant affair, with two cobblestone paths diverging at the gates and converging again before the front door of the manor. Outside these paths, rosebushes and flower beds are arranged, hues of white and crimson a prominent part of the palette here. The real crowning glory of the garden, though, sits between the two diverged paths - a young bloodwood tree, with a small pond at its base. The tree isn't quite so bulbous as its elders, but the willow's branches droop down elegantly, and its leaves brush against the surface of the pond. :To the north, a black iron gate sits in the stone wall surrounding the gardens, the form of the Seamel horseman wrought onto it. At the southern end of the paths, the double, red-varnished oak doors of the manor stand, a good seven feet tall and ready to admit visitors. :It is the Ninth hour by the Shadow on Shadowwatch. The air is stagnant, not stirring with the slightest breeze. The skies are perfectly clear. ----- Though the trek down the traderoad is by no means a short one, Caprice hangs on like a trooper, swaying in the saddle with her head bowed. She's silent for the majority of the trip, speaking only when spoken to... and, at times, not. Atop Conceit, Ashlynn seems a little less disinclined toward chatter herself; not only discouraged by the large, ominous shape upon the makeshift barge but by the task of coaching her mount along the riverbank - the mare recalcitrant at being used as a tow animal, and the softer earth by the river prone to causing accidents if one is not watchful. Eventually, however, they come around the last bend to the stretch of road that would lead them to the Jade Gardens. Reese's dismount is less than graceful. With her mobility so severely limited, it's nigh on impossible for her usual displays of uncanny agility; instead, her foot catches in a stirrup, and the ranger goes tumbling into the dirt and dust. To her credit, she does not scream. Atop Conceit, Half-turning absently to offer her companion an arm down, Ashlynn hardly has time to grasp that the ranger is already attempting a dismount without aid before the woman is in the dust. Mouth agape, the courier is shocked into stillness for a heartbeat before recovering and quickly sinking down beside the woman. "Did you injure yourself further?" she asks solicitously, trying to determine Caprice's state visually before offering a hand back up. It would seem nothing is wounded save for Reese's pride; the younger Firelight manages to ease herself up onto one elbow with little more than an ugly grimace. "Nae," comes the reply, more a grunt than an actual word. She offers up one hand, wordless cue for assistance. Ashlynn arches one pale brow, but otherwise refrains from any other comments or expressions of amusement as she clasps forearms with the serious-minded ranger, pulling her back to her feet. "What now, with that?" she asks in an unconsciously lowered voice, glancing back in the direction of the trussed shape. As if in emphasis, Conceit stamps a forehoof with an impatient snort, ears flattened into nonexistence by now at the odious task of hauling something that smelled so unsavory, while forced to stand there within eyesight of the stables. There is another form who steps towards Bloodwood Manor, dressed in velvet and leather the willowy figure pauses as she notices those before the doors and then continues her step in the soft light of the moons. Laurehya's cloak is pulled close and has the color of the forest, clearly one that would blend in when near. "Fer th' Dooke." Reese dusts her leggings and adjusts the clasp of her cloak, recollecting the shards of her fractured dignity. Glancing meaningfully at the courier, she supplies, "'tis th' wolf." The doors to the manor slide open, and out steps the Duke himself. Gefrey looks at Caprice rather curiously. "Good evening, Mistress Firelight," he says. "Mistress Birch." He glances up then to the third. "My Lady. I saw you through the window... If I could ask, what are you bringing here?" Atop Conceit, Ashlynn's expression tightens at the explicit declaration, but hardly seems surprised - the evidence more than pointing toward some conclusion of the sort. "Well, shall I see if His Grace is taking visitors at this time?" she muses, barely managing the rhetorical remark before the duke declares himself as if summoned. Nearly starting at the greeting, nerves already somewhat shot by the grisly present she had helped haul to the manor, she sketches a bow toward the duke before giving Caprice the right to declare her findings. Laurehya finishes her paces towards the group and pauses as the Duke appears and her violet-blue eyes flicker over him before she dips into a courtly curtsy, or well as close as one used to being on horseback can give. It's graceful but might be either to short or to deep, thankfully her mother isn't there to see. The willowy woman then stands once more as she gives a soft smile, and glances towards the other two woman and whatever it is they brought and let's that be handled before worrying over her own reasons. Unable to properly bow, what for the red-stained bandaging wrapped about her shoulder and upper torso, Reese merely inclines her head reverently. "Y' Grace," she greets politely. "Milady." A swallow. "Hae broong ye th' Shadowbeast." Ashlynn glances in surprise at the lady's appearance, having paid less attention to their surroundings, but sketches a belated bow in that direction as well before looking vaguely apprehensive at unveiling the thing in the middle of the courtyard. "Ha, Conceit," she murmurs quickly, moving to untie the rope from the mare's saddle and leading the horse to the nearest hitching rail rather than risk further protests from the animal when the full scent of changed-wolf hits the air. Laurehya arches an eyebrow as she hears what is within, but she does notice those bowing or speaking and dips her chin in greeting, and even offers a flicker of a smile, but really the lady is now very curious. And with that curiosity she takes a few steps closer but not to close, as if her heart is getting before her mind, and her mind finally stops before she bring herself into danger's path. As Ashlynn goes about bringing the corpse out, Gefrey looks aside to the noblewoman curiously. "A dead body, even a shadow beast's, is unlikely to harm," he says. "If I may ask, what brings you here tonight?" After ensuring Conceit would not be running off in a panic, Ashlynn crouches down next to the pallette, unsheathing her hunting knife to quickly undo the bindings around the corpse. A nudge of the blade's tip pulls back just enough of the tarp's corner to reveal a shadowed shape beneath before she steps back. "M'lord," she offers him the unveiling rights. Laurehya doesn't look scared, simply hasn't come close enough to be caused harmed, though when she's spoken to, those violet eyes flicker from the yet to be seen corpse to Gefrey and she blinks once before a touch of color touches her cheeks, "Ah, do forgive me, Your Grace. I've arrived from Silkfield, with greetings from my father; Count Muhine Driscol.." She explains in a soft, and oddly sweet voice as she reaches into her pack and pulls out a letter to offer to Gefrey. Patience is a virtue, and Reese Firelight is nothing if not virtuous... if only in her own mind. When Ashlynn moves to release the corpse's bindings, the Pathfinder opens her mouth as if to protest, brow furrowing -- but no words are forthcoming. She steps away, one clean pace, clearing the path for the Duke, but allowing him to conduct his business first. Gefrey Driscol takes the letter witih a small smile. "I'll look into it a bit later, yes," he says. "I apologize, but I should be seeing to this, first." He turns and begins to walk over to the bloody parcel, reaching out to pluck up the edge of the bindings and take a look inside. Laurehya dips her chin gracefully and doesn't seem to be upset by being put on the back burner, she is after all curious about this whole thing, which shows on her face as she takes a few more steps over and takes a peek for herself. Or well she takes a peek when and if it's allowed and there is room of course. "Milady," Caprice advises quietly, casting a look askance at Laurehya, "woul' s'gges' ye look 'way, aye." Gefrey Driscol opens up the wrappings, but only slightly, and only long enough to look in himself before he quickly closes it. "You found him after he had turned back, I see," he says rather quietly. We will need to send for someone to identify the body." Laurehya was going to peek, just a small one, but does as she's asked and turns away, only to turn back as Gefrey is speaking once more. Those violet blue eyes flicker over the wrapping but now seems more curious of Caprice, maybe believing she can look the Duke over more later. Never one to refuse the request of her superiors, Caprice dips her head in an obliging nod, pressing her right hand to her heart. "A' Y' Grace commands." Gefrey Driscol nods. "Guardsmen," he calls to the pair who remain outside the gate. "I will need this body taken to a secure area until it can be identified. Be sure to handle this swiftly, and then burn it. I won't have the corpse festering here." Laurehya is the willowy figure to the left and turns to watches the Guards as they are called to, seems she has this thing for marking people with a long look before turning back to the Duke. As he's not said anything else to her, she takes more time to peek around in the darkness, getting a good look at the manor. Duhnen enters the premises from the street of Jade Gardens once more, passing through the gate. The Knight's firey eyes fix on the small gathering, before watching the progress of the guards as Gefrey calls to them. He lingers on the outskirt of the scene, observing. Lacing her hands rather stiffly at her back, a rather worse-for-wear Caprice stands alongside Conceit with the Duke and Baroness. Taciturn as ever, she watches the exchange between the Driscol and his guards with a hooded gaze, eyes glinting that bizarre yellowish-green in the night. Laurehya seems to decide that she can wonder just a little, and so she does, with a graceful sweep of her skirts and the hood of her cloak sitting on her shoulders she steps off to the side, so she can view the courtyard. This movement causes the wind to flicker along her curls and pull them from her lowered hood, and has her hand moves to press one from her face her eyes run over Duhnen in a curious manner. "Is this what you found?" Duhnen speaks up as he approaches the back of the wagon, returning the nod from Gefrey. His eyes wander over the wrapped corpse, before wrinkling his nose and turning about. Laurehya recieves a curious look as well, before he drops into a bow. "My Lady. Good evening." Duhnen receives a demure, respectful nod as he joins the party, though it is Gefrey that Reese addresses. "In th' Shadow Distric', Y'Grace. T'woul' seem he were mad wi' Shadow. Burned doon a church, aye, he an' hi' fellows." She glances between the nobles. "T'were more 'n one. T'other be los' t' th' fire." Gefrey Driscol smiles a bit wryly. "I see," he says. "I'll see to this in the morning, then. Good night to you, Mistress Firelight." And to Laurehya, "And since I have been so rudely distracted, feel free to take the guest room. We can speak tomorrow." Laurehya was trying not to stare at Duhnen, so she must turn the rest of the way around when she's spoken to, and she returns the bow with a curtsy of her own, graceful at the very least. SHe then dips her chin as she raises and smiles that impishly soft way of hers, "My Lord, a good evening to you as well.." Her voice is soft, sweet and really not accented. When the Duke offers the guest room, she blinks but dips her head and smiles as he disappears. "There were two?" Duhnen asks with a grimace, considering Caprice once more. "I hope the other was finished by the fire, and didn't escape. Did you have any way to know? Saw him fall, perhaps?" He leans against the wagon lightly, tapping fingers on the wood. "Y' Grace." Reese bids the Duke farewell, upturning her lips but not quite smiling. The tail of her black cloak whispers against her calves as she shifts her weight, rocking her head to consider the knight. "Di' na alloow hi' escape, milord," she explains simply. Laurehya looks between one person and the other as the conversion moves on, or more back to the whole bodies, or body. This of course draws her curiosity once more, but as she doesn't know much on the issue, she simply makes a nice little shadow as she listens. Duhnen nods his acceptance of that statement, before smiling to Caprice. "Well. Well done, then, Mistress Firelight. I owe you a debt, and I'm quite impressed. The man you dispatched was of extraodinary power. Is there anything I can do for you to repay your service, perhaps?" Caprice shakes her head a little, then rocks it toward Conceit. "Milord be kin', aye. All I woul' as' 's yer seein' Mistress Birch back t' 'er hoome safe-like, aye? She were a greet help t' me." "I can do that, of course. Though...I don't exactly know where she lives. But we'll figure that out when we come to it," Duhnen nods at that. He finally turns back to Laurehya, smiling to her. "We've not met. Duhnen Driscol, at your service." He drops into a polite bow. Laurehya wasn't paying attention, or it just passes over her head at what the other woman picked to be rewarding with, so she simply glances back to Duhnen and tilts her head to the side before she gives another smile. "Laurehya Driscol.." She offers in return, leaving title off as Duhnen did as well. "And a pleasure as I said to meet you, though it seems I appeared at unusual time.." Or atleast she hopes it's unusual. It would seem that the midnight-garbed stranger has little to offer in the way of introduction. "By yer leave, then, milord, milady," Reese states simply, sketching as much of a bow as her limited range of motion will permit. ----- Return to Season 7 (2008) Category:Logs